Luid's Case Journal (2)
Luid lay in bed with only his head poking out from under the covers. He was in the middle of getting an earful from Amelia.
"Luid, if you were going to stay at the academy instead of coming home, you should have at least told me."
"Sorry."
"Aren't I supposed to be the first one you tell?"
"Yeah."
Luid's head bobbed drowsily, and all Amelia could manage was a sigh.
Thank goodness.
She was genuinely glad that Luid had stayed in the capital out of concern for her.
"Fine. If you're sleepy, just go back to sleep."
Amelia gently stroked his hair, and Luid was soon snoring softly, fast asleep. She crept out of his room and eased the door shut with the utmost care.
The gentle expression she'd worn moments ago hardened in an instant.
"Luid. The House of Windsor. Did they really think us so easy a target?"
The Lazy Young Master, Luid.
The nickname had been famous long before he ever set foot in the Academy. The North wasn't a closed-off place, and on nights when the waning moon rose, word of the youngest prince who wandered out to sleep wherever he pleased was known to every soul in the Windsor Duchy.
How people treated such a brother varied from person to person.
One hunter would tip his hat in quiet respect. One old woman would offer a silent prayer before moving on. If children playing nearby happened to disturb Luid's slumber, their parents would rush out and scold them fiercely, telling them never to interrupt the Young Master's rest.
For the most part, the reactions were warm like that. The commoners of the Windsor Duchy revered and respected the Windsor family, whose members led the charge into deadly monster purges on their behalf.
The problem was the nobles who came visiting from other lands. The Duchy's territory was vast, and its tourist attractions were just as plentiful.
And among the visitors, there was no shortage of the insolent.
Those who condescended to the scion of the Empire's second-ranked ducal house, treating him carelessly under the pretense of getting close. Those who would wake a sleeping Luid, angling however they could to forge a useful connection.
That so many people lacked such basic sense came down to the nickname itself: Lazy Young Master. A sluggard, the name implied, must be an easygoing one.
It was true that he rarely lost his temper. Never once had Luid shouted at anyone or thrown his authority around, branding someone insolent.
But that didn't mean Luid was incapable of feeling irritation at all.
He simply disliked conflict. His little brother was, by nature, averse to fighting with people and expending emotional energy.
And that led to stress. Back at the northern estate, Amelia had often told him, "Keep swallowing it down like that, and one day it'll boil over."
"……And he was so fond of Lake Delin, too."
She remembered it clearly — early in the semester, Luid had been delighted, saying he'd found a good spot.
For him to leave the lake he loved that much could only mean one thing.
He was that angry. He'd taken on that much stress.
He'd left the Academy because it had become more than he could bear.
"Then I'll pay it back. Every bit of discomfort they gave Luid."
In the North, Irene had dealt mercilessly with the scoundrels who disturbed Luid's precious sleep. Irene wasn't in the capital. Which meant that this time, Amelia would have to fill her role.
The Headmaster's office at the Imperial Academy.
"…You're telling me you have no personnel to spare?"
Clifford let out a low growl.
"Yes."
Amelia answered stiffly.
"I have an ongoing case at the moment."
"Push that investigation aside for now. This matter takes precedence."
Clifford held out a document. Amelia only stared at it, making no move to take it.
"I refuse."
She replied coldly.
Clifford clutched his chest in frustration.
"What is the matter with you, girl? An order from the Headmaster himself, and it goes in one ear and out the other?"
"Headmaster or not, you have no authority to move the Investigation Unit."
By imperial law, the Academy Investigation Unit answered directly to the royal family — a safeguard against any potential corruption. In other words, their lord was the Emperor, not the Headmaster.
"And from the start, the Academy has no authority to order the Knight Department around."
It was no accident that every Headmaster in the Academy's history had been an Archmage.
The Knight Department had little that outsiders could meaningfully meddle with, so it operated on its own accord. The drawback was the lack of institutional attention it received; the advantage was its freedom. In practice, most in the Knight Department didn't consider themselves below even the professors of the Magic Department.
"…Such trifles don't matter."
"Are you saying the kidnappings occurring in the capital are trifling?"
"That's not what I mean. You've spent all this time and turned up no evidence whatsoever. Aligning with the official knight orders and focusing the Academy Investigation Unit on Academy matters is the correct course."
"I already told you. The Knight Department's lord is His Majesty the Emperor. Our priority lies with the crown."
"The outcome is the same either way! Finding the black magician comes before the kidnapping case."
Clifford spoke with grave sincerity.
"Would it not be true loyalty to root out the black magician's filthy veins before they burrow deep into this land? Everything you say is right — but this is necessary work."
In other words, Clifford was once again asking the Investigation Unit to hunt for traces of the black magician — just as he'd once asked Luid.
"Asking us to abandon a case already in our hands and handle yours instead… I'd say that means you've failed. Failed to find the black magician's trail."
"……"
The words left a bitter taste in Clifford's mouth.
Because they were true.
He'd mobilized the entire faculty — gone so far as to search personally — and still found no thread of the black magician.
If magic couldn't solve it, the only remaining option was the knight orders…
But that would broadcast the Academy's inadequacy. It was tantamount to advertising that they lacked the ability to solve their own problems.
The Academy's standing — already a favorite punching bag of the nobility — would shrink even further. As Headmaster, it was the worst possible future, one he had to avoid at all costs.
"Fine. You're right. Then how am I to help you?"
Clifford candidly admitted defeat and asked for a way forward.
But Amelia cut him off with a single stroke.
"My brother is no longer at the Academy. He is in the capital. The kidnapping case matters more to me."
It was an absurd statement.
Who on earth would kidnap Luid Christopher? Setting aside his noble birth, the boy's raw ability alone was overwhelming.
But Clifford understood exactly what Amelia meant.
She was saying: an Academy without Luid has nothing to offer him.
Clifford's head throbbed.
"And… I came today for another purpose."
Amelia drew an envelope from inside her coat and handed it over. Clifford took it and broke the seal — a document stamped with a crimson insignia. As he read it, his pupils dilated.
It was a certificate of sponsorship termination from the House of Windsor.
"The Windsor family's consideration ends today."
Amelia rose, as if there were no reason to linger a moment longer. She gave a brief bow, turned on her heel, and walked out.
Clifford stared at the document for a long, long while.
Frozen in that very posture, he did not move for some time.
By the time Luid opened his eyes, it was around noon.
He yawned long and wide the moment he woke, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was silent — Miho had apparently trailed after Hershey.
She does come in handy, though.
At first he'd thought, great, now there's an extra burden to feed. But as Hershey's bodyguard, she was remarkably efficient.
Thanks to her, he'd managed to ditch the Academy. If not for Miho, he'd probably still be sulking at Lake Delin.
"I'm hungry."
Luid clutched his growling stomach and headed for the kitchen.
The manor was quiet. Normally Sherry would be there to greet him the moment he woke, so her absence meant she was off somewhere.
Arriving at the kitchen, Luid approached the shelves, which were stacked with every manner of ingredient. He picked up a baguette roughly the length of himself.
Gripping it in both hands, he began to munch away.
…Hard. But the flavor bloomed the more he chewed, and it wasn't bad, exactly.
It would've softened with a glass of milk, but he couldn't be bothered. This was fine in its own way.
Eyes half-lidded, Luid ate the baguette in a trance. He nibbled so minutely that it showed no sign of shrinking. As it became clear this would take forever, a thought struck him.
I should eat this in bed.
But this baguette was absurdly long, even by baguette standards. He considered snapping off a piece to take with him — but he didn't feel like using magic.
And then, inexplicably, an urge rose up in him: to slam it down on the table and break it by force.
Luid does not resist his urges. Without a flicker of hesitation, he hoisted the baguette and brought it down on the table with everything he had.
THUNK—!
"…Huh."
Luid stared at the baguette with blank eyes. Not so much as a scratch.
…His pride stung. Boy or not — small or not — he was still a man. Was he really going to fail to snap a single piece of bread?
Luid swung again.
WHACK!
"……"
But it still didn't break.
"Fine. Let's see who wins."
Luid began hammering the baguette down again and again.
THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!
Hard as it was, bread was still bread. Cracks began to spiderweb across it.
Luid sneered at the baguette.
That all you've got?? Is that really it??
Rrrrip—
He felt it coming. Like a hero unleashing the final blow, his heart surged. In that instant, fire lit Luid's blue eyes, and the ambient mana around him began to hum in response to his emotion.
Raising his arm high, Luid brought the baguette down with every last ounce of his strength.
CRACK—!
The baguette split cleanly in two and went flying.
The problem was that it flew straight for Luid's forehead.
Bonk.
Taking the hit dead-on, Luid lost his balance and toppled over. Dazed, he watched the baguette sail through the air above his head.
Rumble, rumble.
"…Oh no."
Of all possible targets, the baguette slammed directly into the towering stack of ingredients.
The shelves shuddered, let out a deeply ominous creak — and then came crashing down in an avalanche. Among the tumbling piles, the monster baguette rolled across the floor and bowled over yet another stack, and the impact took out an entire table outright.
CRASH!
…Along with various dishes and the like.
Fortunately, a faint protective barrier wrapped around Luid's whole body, so he felt no pain whatsoever —
but the scene spread across his vision was pandemonium incarnate.
"……"
"Luid!"
"Young Master!"
Amelia and Sherry rushed into the kitchen. They took in the sight of Luid coated head to toe in flour and the utterly demolished kitchen, their faces going blank with disbelief.
Luid slowly averted his gaze and said,
"The fox did it."
Amelia wiped the flour from Luid's face with a damp cloth.
He'd be bathed properly soon enough, of course — but she couldn't very well leave him covered in flour while the water heated. Sherry had gone off to prepare his bath.
"You were sleeping?"
"Ah, yeah. I was up all night."
"Sherry must not have slept either, then."
"She has to keep score, apparently."
Word was that Amelia and Sherry were in the middle of an overnight standoff. Hence the sleepwear.
"Why?"
"The case. The culprit moves at night. But Luid — making a mistake is fine. Framing your familiar for it is not."
Amelia spoke evenly, rising to her feet and tossing the cloth into the laundry basket.
"Want me to help?"
Luid said it out of nowhere.
Amelia flinched. Fixing him with a serious look, she answered.
"No. This is my succession trial. I may have no interest in the title itself, but I refuse to go down in the records as a worthless older sister who needed her little brother's help."
The contents of Amelia's trial would remain in the family records forever — what achievements she built, what she accomplished, what points would be docked.
I don't like it, though.
Luid hated seeing Amelia working herself to the bone without so much as a proper night's sleep. He wanted her to finish quickly and rest. Her health would suffer otherwise.
But as Amelia had said, openly helping her would backfire. And so Luid decided to pull a little sleight of hand. He reached into empty air and drew out a book.
It was a blank volume enchanted with the Never-Ending Pages magic — the very same book from his failed attempt at writing a novel.
Luid looked up at Amelia and said,
"Starting today, I'm keeping a diary."
"Wh-what?"
Amelia was taken aback.
"A diary's my business, so don't worry about it."
"……?"
Amelia couldn't make heads or tails of his intent. But then, Luid had never been an understandable person — so she nodded with a puzzled look on her face.
"Well… all right, then."
Perfect. Now I can quietly follow her around and help on the sly.
From his declaration about the diary, Luid had carefully omitted one crucial detail: that the diary's pages would be filled while trailing after Amelia.